


Umbrella Upside Down

by noisystar



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dating, Enemies to Lovers, Fix-It, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Revenge, Romantic Tension, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-20 23:24:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11345280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noisystar/pseuds/noisystar
Summary: Oswald shows Edward how they get to be together.





	Umbrella Upside Down

**Author's Note:**

> The major character death happens early on and I tried not to make it feel overpowering or central to the story here, and it is not either of the main characters in this fic, Oswald or Edward. This is ultimately a self-serving, happy fic because I NEEDED these two to be together. 
> 
> I also haven't watched the entire show, though I've read what goes on on their wiki pages, so some details may be inconsistent. This takes place after Edward stops working for Mayor Cobblepot when he learns what Os does to Isabella, and for the sake of this fic, Oswald has disappeared after a seemingly deadly altercation with Ed. 
> 
> Also, in which everyone is queer, and no one cares about the gay. (Jim, looking at you.)
> 
> With these details in mind, I hope you enjoy!

_The Date_

 

“So, uh, you like slurpees?” said Jim Gordon as he stood beside Edward outside the gas station.

 

Edward took his time as he sipped, looking towards, without looking at, Jim. “Almost everyone sees me without noticing me, for what is beyond me is what they usually seek. What am I?”

 

Jim blinked before shaking his head with a scrape of laughter. “More riddles, huh? Okay.. Everyone sees without noticing…”

 

Edward removed his lips from his straw, unable to keep himself from giving the answer. “A window.”

 

“Window?”

 

“Yes.” A grin twitched at the corner of Edward’s mouth. “You’re looking for a window. That’s what people do on--on dates,” Edward hesitated, catching himself just before he tripped over the subject of _dating_. “They look for windows into people’s minds, thoughts, what makes them up. Right?” He smiled very quickly. “Asking about my drink could be considered pretty desperate though.”

 

Jim pressed his lips together, blushing as he smiled. “Right…”

 

Edward dipped back into his slurpee. When he came back up to face Jim, he said, “My mother had a bit of a sweet tooth. She passed that onto me. Every once in a while, it bites.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” Jim said, looking surprised. “What’s your mother like?”

 

Edward couldn’t help but feel excited at someone’s interest in him, even if Jim was just digging for some kind of information and letting Edward believe this was something friendlier. He was certain he could capture Jim’s genuine interest if he kept talking, regardless. All he ever needed was a chance, and someone to listen. “Oh, like me. Intelligent. Detail-oriented. She’s a bit emotionally detached,” Edward stared into his bright green slurpee. “Never opened up much to anyone, not even my father. That left him pretty despondent. Through their entire marriage, having three kids, he never got her to talk to or even listen to him - always shut him down and didn’t wanna talk about it. He died feeling like he had been utterly alone for the last 40 years of his life. But she seemed partial to me,” Edward smiled proudly. “I was her favorite, not either of my brothers. They wound up mushy, unmotivated. I was my mother’s son.” He caught himself, surprised at Jim’s now concerned expression. The most important factor was that now Jim was definitely interested. “Mm,” Edward took a sip of his drink. “You?”

 

Jim watched the bright green drink sink down its cup. “I was closer to my mother, too.”

 

“Ah,” Edward smiled, eyes narrowing in on this new thing they had in common. “You’re an admirable guy, Detective,” he said, suddenly dropping his gaze from Jim’s face. “I always appreciated your friendship.”

 

Jim’s phone buzzed. Pursing his lips apologetically, he looked down at his phone.

 

Edward raised an eyebrow. “Other suitors?” His mouth could barely move enough to shape the words.

 

“Hah, no,” Jim shook his head as he put the phone away. “Just Harvey. Gotta go. Look, if you hear anything about Penguin… you tell me, got that?”

 

Back to business, then. Edward’s face darkened. “I don’t think either of us will be hearing from him.”

 

“What do you mean?” Jim asked as his phone started going off. He held his finger up to Edward impatiently as he answered it. “Yeah? No, just tryin’a get some info on the missing-Penguin case, Harv. Alright, I’ll meet you there.” Jim pocketed the phone and nodded at Edward. “We’ll talk later.”

 

Edward blew warm breath into his straw, watching the rest of his slurpee slowly degenerate into dull green slush. “Mm-hmm.”

 

* * *

 

Edward felt two hands latch onto his shoulders from behind him, adjusting his green jacket. Ed swung around to face the intruder.

 

“Hey, you get caught in the storm, buddy?” It was Jim. Edward had just escaped the rain, finding shelter beneath an awning. “Heh, sorry. You were looking a little rough.” Jim put up his splayed hands. There was a gentle stiffness to the way his fingers hovered.

 

Edward’s eyes fell nervously. He brushed his hand over one shoulder of the jacket, slowly, as if making sure it was still there. “It’s fine. You just surprised me.” He shrugged, composing himself. “How’re you? It’s been a while.”

 

“I’m fine.” Jim smiled, genuinely, and it was different from the kinds of smiles Edward would see from him back when they worked together at the GCPD. He felt like he never really knew just how oddly attractive Jim was until he saw that particular kind of Jim-smile. It faded slightly, then, but the following expression was no less attractive. Jim’s focus, the sort of detachment that made him so good at what he made his life’s work. It was admirable. “I was wondering if you’d heard anything on Penguin yet.”

 

Edward frowned. These traits he had found so attractive in Jim Gordon - the selective compassion, the ways he chose to survive and indulge - were ruined when they were wasted on someone so utterly undeserving of it. “No, I haven’t.” It was maddening, having every conversation with Jim somehow end up on the subject of the Penguin. “I was hoping you’d forget about him.” he mumbled.

 

“What’s that?” Jim frowned.

 

Edward sighed. “Nothing.”

 

“Ed. What do you know about Penguin?”

 

He sighed again, calculating. He reached his hand out from beneath the awning, watching the rain pool in the palm of his hand and spill off. “I can bring tears to your eyes; I resurrect the dead, make you smile, and reverse time. I form in an instant but last a lifetime. What am I?”

 

Jim gave him that pursed-lip look that could make Ed feel either extreme gratification or entirely worthless. This time, it was the latter.

 

“A memory,” said Edward, flipping his hand over, still cup-shaped, as rain continued to run off the surface of his skin. “The Penguin is only a memory. One that's best forgotten.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Why do you keep bringing this up?”

 

“Because, Ed, as much as you'd like to forget about the Penguin, I can't. It's my job.”

 

Edward crossed his arms. “It’s remarkable the GCPD hasn’t been able to dig up any information yet. It’s been over a month.”

 

“I know.”

 

Edward’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You haven’t found _anything?_ No body? Nothing?”

 

Jim frowned. “No, Ed. No body. We don’t know that he’s dead.” He eyed Edward, leaning closer, not for any affectionate reason but to see if he could smell any guilt.

 

Edward struggled with his response; he could catch Jim in what was probably a lie, but doing so would require revealing more about his relationship with Penguin - something he'd rather avoid. Still, he was chomping at the bit to prove Jim was lying. He _had_ to know something about Penguin’s whereabouts. And for some reason, he was hiding that fact. He was purposefully trying to _torture_ Edward with his constant interrogations. “Frankly, I don’t know why this has to be brought up whenever we see each other.”

 

“Because, I’m a cop and you’re someone who knows something,” Jim said, eyes rolling like they were bobbing in boiling water.

 

“Is that all I am to you?” Edward said, twisting his mouth up like a wad of trash. Jim looked at Ed with an expression that was strikingly reminiscent of the way his mother looked at him when he was still a child flinging food across the counter. “Why is he all you ever want to talk about?” Instead of waiting for an answer that would do anything but satisfy, Edward turned and walked away. Jim called after him, likely to reassure; but it was too little, too late. Penguin had ruined their conversation, again.

 

It wasn’t fair.

 

* * *

 

 

To make things up and to hopefully convince Jim that the Penguin was a subject that they were finished with, Edward decided it was best to bring a bouquet of flowers to Jim’s apartment. Jim wouldn’t be home yet, but Edward was counting on him finding his presence a nice surprise.

 

Once Edward reached the floor, he stopped abruptly: Down the hall, at Jim’s door, was Oswald Cobblepot.

 

Oswald. Seeing him was like feeling a torrent of air open up wickedly on Edward’s face, rattling his core. He felt betrayed by Oswald - betrayed that Oswald had allowed himself to still exist, despite Edward’s physical pleas for him to do anything otherwise. He had been drowning all thoughts of Oswald, and although it was a slow process it had still been steadily successful; but here was the downpour, coming back at him, filling his mouth and lungs and boiling into searing steam.

 

Before Edward could shout the Penguin back into nonexistence, Jim’s apartment door opened. Oswald smiled, laughing, before he stepped inside and the door closed.

 

Edward gaped. Jim had told him that he wouldn’t be home until later. Now he knew it for certain: Jim was lying about the Penguin.

 

Whatever they were doing together, they were making it a point to keep it from the Riddler. It must be some plan to fuck him over, some kind of revenge and more of the relentless betrayal that engulfed Gotham.

 

" _Game on,_ ” he muttered to himself, smashing his mouth into a pissed-off grin. He had to get ahead of their plan. He had to get ahead of these emotions. He would have expected this from the Penguin - but Jim? Jim must've fallen for one of the Penguin’s creeping lies. But it didn't matter.

 

Jim was too much of a liability now.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to post this fic all at once but Life™ keeps getting in the way, so in order to keep up my motivation I've decided to post this first chapter before I finalize the others. Thank you for reading!


End file.
